


The Baker and the Grand Master

by Muret



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Age Difference, Caring Haytham Kenway, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Romance, F/M, Help, Other characters may be added, Slow Burn, but i dunno how to continue or finish it, i had a hunch and now i must write this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 06:00:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24329938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Muret/pseuds/Muret
Summary: Driven by the scent of a nearby bakery, Haytham Kenway finds himself lost at the sight of the baker’s niece, Mary Anne Connolly, a young woman that knows nothing about the long lasting conflict between Templars and Assassins.As a mature and experienced man as he thinks himself to be, Haytham is intrigued by the effect this young woman has on him. For example, she accomplishes something that he believed to be impossible: leaving him speechless.
Relationships: Haytham Kenway/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 14





	1. Chapter 1

**Boston, 1773**

Many times had Haytham walked through Boston’s streets, and many times he had missed the opportunity to truly enjoy it. This was, in fact, the very first time he really took his time to watch every shop and every corner of the city’s streets. His hands remained tucked at his back, an odd habit of his. October hit hard that year as snow started to fall earlier than expected. Haytham cherished the cold weather, as it reminded him of London’s. Only at particular times he allowed himself to wander back to his youth, back to when he could allow himself to be off-guard.

He kept strolling around the main streets near to the docks. The place was crowded, filled to the brim with people from all over the country and overseas, looking for business and new opportunities. Haytham crossed the docks, looking for a quieter place. He ran across some British soldiers, stomping and shouting in a nearby tavern. His mind cursed them for being a public disgrace to the same Empire they sworn allegiance to.

He took a deep breath in disdain, shaking his head lightly in discontent. He, however, took yet another deep breath, this time with his nose as it caught some delicious smell coming not from afar. He searched for its origin, walking absentmindedly across the streets. Finally, he found what he was searching for: a small bakery by the name of Connolly. He looked through the showcase’s glass, spotting a few customers inside as well as some pastries and loafs of bread. It looked delicious.

Pondering about whether or not Charles needed his presence at the Green Dragon, he decided to get inside the establishment. Removing his hat after getting through the door, he was welcomed by the same smell he had tracked down a few meters behind. Haytham studied the place: it was a simple, not decorated space, with wooden walls and floors and, of course, the wooden counter. Behind it, an old man attended his customers with a wide smile, almost too warm for Haytham’s likeness. Now that he looked closely, every woman shopping shared the same warm features. It was probably because he was used to deal with far less enjoyable individuals, but he could swear they all looked alarmingly _happy_.

There was a sudden noise coming from a side entrance behind the counter. Haytham fixed his eyes on the door immediately, waiting for someone to come out. Years of training and guarding his back made him reach for the handle of his sword carefully, but to his surprise, a girl emerged from the door’s threshold. He could only see her back, as she was carrying what seemed like an iron plank full of bread. He released the sword’s handle, convinced she was not a threat, but rather some assistant the baker had. Scorching and fiery red hair flowed in beautiful waves to her lower back, capturing the light that came through the showcase and sparking with vibrant orange hues. She briefly looked at the man behind the counter, Haytham only caught half of her face, but he was sure she was smiling widely at him, reaching for his upper arm and stroking it with affection. His father, perhaps? His trail of thoughts was soon interrupted.

“Your turn, sir” the man informed.

Haytham shook his thoughts aside and took step towards the counter. The girl was depositing the bread she had carried in on a stand behind the man. As if his throat had closed itself, words didn’t find a way out of his mouth. He remained awkwardly silent for another brief moment, averting his gaze from the girl to the man, who looked at him rather intrigued, his smile not falling from the lips.

“I apologize,” Haytham finally said, “My mind got lost somewhere else I’m afraid.”

“Somewhere _close_ , if I dare say, sir,” he joked, “How can I help you in this fine Boston morning?”

“I am afraid I got lost and got carried away thanks to the delightful smell of your bakery. I could use some indications on how to reach my destiny.”

“Of course, sir. Newcomers usually find themselves lost the first days after arriving to such a large city as Boston,” his smile grew, revealing a few more wrinkles around the corners of his light blue eyes and his mouth. He must have been on his fifties. “Mary Anne, please watch over the shop for as long as I help this gentleman.”

“Of course, uncle David,” the anonymous girl replied and turned around from where she was standing, taking a moment to smile at the man and then directing her gaze to Haytham.

He could then admire the young lady that stood in front of him. She was younger than he thought, probably around her mid twenties. Her ivory-white face was adorned with small freckles all across it, focusing on the nose and cheeks and slightly reaching her forehead. Her eyes were not blue as her uncle’s, but emerald green, tainted with a few stripes of hazel. His eyes travelled shortly to her smiling lips, full and rose. She smiled at Haytham and averted her gaze, focusing back to the customers.

Haytham returned to the conversation he started with David, but he could hardly shake the face of the girl from his mind. He found himself absurdly smiling to himself, trying to focus on the man’s indications to remain somehow credible.

David finished his explanation about the noticeable parts of Boston that Haytham, as a supposed newcomer, should visit.

“And should you find yourself lost again, remember: the docks are the most crowded place in the city. And I would hardly recommend you not to cross any of the British soldiers around the city. Their manners tend to be quite questionable,” he finished.

“Thank you kindly, my good sir. I would like to know your name, so I can recommend you to those who may find themselves in the same position as me.”

“David Connolly,” he said and reached out to shake Haytham’s hand, “And that girl whom you have been looking at for as long as our conversation took place is my niece, Mary Anne.”

“Haytham Kenway, delighted to make your acquaintance,” he tried to hide the red hue that threatened to reach his face. His voice, on the other hand, had no traces of remorse whatsoever.

Haytham let the man’s hand out and turned to the girl once more, looking right at her. The smile that reached his lips cursed him for the rest of the week, as he was sure he had looked like a lame teenager trying to impress a lady. Mary Anne, on the other hand, smiled warmly at him, her eyes shining brightly with the light of the morning. He nodded his head in farewell and looked at her for one last time.

“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Kenway,” she said to him, “Please, do come again when in need of bread... _or indications”_ , the mischief of her voice was highly noticeable.

Her smile could only grow wider at the sight of a blushed Haytham Kenway as he left the shop. He put on his hat back and started walking towards the Green Dragon. His mind, though, was still fixed in the bakery and its delicious smell. And, of course, on _her_. He blinked a few times and tried to focus on his steps, but was interrupted, much to his displeasure, with the loud rumble of his intestines. He laughed at himself in disbelief and continued his journey through Boston’s cold morning.


	2. Chapter 2

It was not until some days after their first encounter that Haytham saw Mary Anne again. She was buying some things on the docks, presumably for the bakery. He hid immediately after seeing her, watching from a safe distance. She was wearing a deep green dress. He smiled; green suited her pale skin and fiery hair well. His eyes travelled to her bare shoulders and got a glimpse of the freckles that sat on top of her skin. He wondered if she had them all over her body and smiled faintly.

She continued pacing through the many stands that were set up that morning, reaching for food every now and then and smelling it. Smiling. It seemed that her smile never left her pretty face. Haytham got too caught up in his own thoughts at one point, losing sight of the girl and sighing reluctantly. He shook his head and proceeded to resume his walk, but as he was turning his back on the docks, a soft and warm hand reached for his, tugging it and making him look back again.

“I see that my uncle’s indications sat firmly on you. It seems you have got accustomed to Boston so far, Mr. Kenway,” her voice said. For Haytham, it was nearly a whisper. A delightful whisper.

“Miss Connolly,” he looked at her smaller frame and tried to tidy his thoughts and words, “I will never be able to thank him enough for his kindness. And yours, as well.”

She smiled profusely at his words while her hand still held his with a soft but firm grip. “I knew you were not new here. But don’t worry, I didn’t tell David.”

Haytham’s heart could have stopped at that same moment, for her small thumb started to draw circles along his skin. A shiver ran down his entire spine, and she must have felt it, for she retired her hand in spite of Haytham’s silent complain.

“Would you want to accompany me, Mr. Kenway? You may not be new here, but I’m sure you have never tasted apples as delicious as the ones that Mr. Smith sells!” she said with enthusiasm and a warm feeling shook Haytham entirely.

“Of course, Miss Connolly,” he said, “It would be my pleasure.”

“Please, just call me Anne. It’s shorter and far more fitting now that we have met again,” she replied as she turned back and headed towards the stands once again, sure that Haytham followed her, “And I could call you Haytham. If that’s something you approve of.”

He smiled. “I am happy to oblige.”

Together, they paced around the food stands, stopping every now and then so that Anne could show Haytham what she meant by _the best fruit of the Colonies_. She would take a piece and reach for his nose so he could smell the fruit before tasting it. He found himself smiling at her kindness, agreeing with Anne that he had never tasted anything like it. Haytham was so relaxed that he even forgot about his meeting with Charles. He would have to make it up to him eventually.

“How did you know I was not a newcomer?” Haytham asked at one moment, walking calmly by Anne’s side, hands tucked at his back.

She looked at his eyes, finding a deep blue hue in them. “It was a hunch. I observed you when you left; your feet dragged you across the bakery’s street like you had walked it a hundred times before. And you carried no other belongings than your sword.”

So she was a smart one.

“It’s all a matter of looking closely,” she explained and continued walking.

There were all kinds of noises by the docks: shouting, laughing… Anne seemed to enjoy the moment, when a kid crashed into her. She looked at the young boy as he tugged her dress impatiently.

“Anne, tá siad anseo ( _Anne, they’re here_ ),” he said and Haytham frowned, not understanding a word. Anne apparently did.

“Téigh abhaile ( _go home_ ),” she replied kneeling in front of the boy, “Tabharfaidh mé cuairt ort anocht. Fan go dtí sin. ( _I’ll visit you tonight. Wait until then_ ).”

The small kid looked somewhat scared, as he only stood in front of her, glued to the ground.

“ Téigh abhaile!” she raised her voice and the boy did as instructed, disappearing into the crowd. Anne followed him with her eyes, and breathed deeply when she knew he was safe.

She stood up again and straightened her dress. Haytham studied her face. She looked worried. He noticed that it was the first time that her warm smile faltered. His hand travelled to the small of her back, his heart raced as he reached her body.

“I’m sorry,” she excused herself, “I must return to the bakery. I remembered I had issues to attend to.”

“I could escort you there, if you’d like,” Haytham offered.

She smiled again and nodded in approval. “I assume you would like to know about that little scene you just witnessed.”

They walked together towards the bakery with a little haste. The wind that was blowing moved strands of her red hair away from her face. She started explaining.

“That boy’s name is Ethan. He’s an orphan as well as the other kids I help every now and then at the local orphanage. I try to reduce the number of homeless kids and look to their safety as they often end up in workhouses,” she said with sudden anger in her voice.

“Ethan came to inform me of the arrival of soldiers to the surroundings of the orphanage,” she stopped suddenly and looked at Haytham, “These are hard times for homeless kids, Haytham. British soldiers have been all around Boston since the 1770’s massacre, and they’ve grown fond of taking what is not theirs. Even the food for the orphanage.”

They resumed their walking in silence. Trained as he was in studying people, he could see that something had changed in her eyes. There was something he knew too well: rage.

“That tongue you spoke with the kid—“

“Irish,” she rapidly answered, “I am Irish and so are Ethan and many others from the orphanage. I find it safer to speak it on the streets in case someone tries to listen.”

“Clever girl,” he said with an amused tone.

“I try my best,” she smiled as they finally reached their destination.

“Would you want me to accompany you tonight? I might keep the guards at bay in case something goes wrong.”

“I’m afraid I must decline your offer. I have been taking care of them alone for quite some time,” she explained as her hands traveled to the hems of his coat, tugging at them softly, “Besides, I would not want to put you in such a risky situation, I’m sure you understand,” she looked up at his eyes and smiled, hands still on his deep blue clothing. She played with one of his golden buttons and parted her lips ever so slightly. She was tempting him.

Haytham looked at the deep green of her eyes and took a sharp breath and as fast as she had put her hands on his vest, she had removed them, leaving him with a sudden cold on his chest.

“Perhaps you could come here in the morning. Uncle David has not stopped talking about you since you met him. And it would give you the opportunity to taste the best bread of Boston,” she smiled and turned to the door, taking the knob in her hand and twisting it after looking one last time at Haytham.

“I will be waiting for your visit,” she winked at him and entered the place, closing the door behind her.

And with that, Haytham Kenway found himself at the outside of her bakery one more time, speechless and with a certain feeling running wild inside of him: curiosity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! I am so happy to be writing this fic! To those of you that are reading it: what do you think? Leave a comment, pretty please!  
> I'll see ya' in the next chapter <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! This is kind of a long chapter, but it is rather good (in my humble opinion). Enjoy!

That same night, Anne prepared for her visit to the orphanage unaware of the fact that, some streets away from her, a certain Templar was about to do the same. It was not pleasant for Haytham, that of following her when earlier that day he’d said he would not accompany Anne to her destination. However, after years and years of serving the Templar Order, he knew far too well that things could turn dangerous for her that night. Especially if British guards were involved.

Haytham took his weapons and fixed the hidden blade to his forearm, adjusting it tightly. He walked out of the room he had rented on the Green Dragon, shutting the door behind him with a key that he put in one of his pockets and turned back, heading downstairs to the main door. Crossing the tavern he came across Charles, who put down the beer he was enjoying and stood in hopes of reaching the Grand Master on time before he left.

“Master Kenway,” he said. Haytham turned on his heels and looked at him. “Mind if I join you?”

“Pleasant night, Charles,” he greeted beforehand, “I am afraid I have some personal issues that require my attendance this night. This is a thing I must do alone.”

Hesitate crossed Charles’ face for a second, but it was long enough for Haytham to notice. “If you granted me a few words, sir, there is something I have been trying to tell you for some time now. I have discussed it with the others, and I am aware that it preoccupies them as well.”

The Grand Master finally turned to fully face the ball of nerves that was Charles at that moment. He had to reprimand himself for laughing internally. “Speak your mind,” he finally said with a relaxed voice tone.

“You see, sir,” he tried to avoid the stuttering that was threatening him, “I- we have noticed your recent absences. You have been, with all due respect Master Kenway, perhaps a bit distracted from our duties in Boston and the men -as well as me, of course- are preoccupied with some matters.”

“And those matters may be…”, he pushed Charles, knowing all too well where the conversation was heading.

The man mumbled, pondering if it would be wise to say the words out loud. “The savage, sir. We have come to the knowledge that he may be involved with the Sons of Liberty. They sure are plotting to take advantage of the situation against us.”

Haytham already knew that all of Charles’ problems had to do with _him_. However, that night he could not approach the idea of leaving Anne alone. “I am sure that whatever _he_ may be doing this night will not change the course of the Order’s plans. However, if that thought keeps you awake at night, feel free to investigate on your own. I will listen to whatever you may discover tomorrow at dusk.”

“But- sir!” Charles tried to keep him from turning to the door once more.

“Good night, Master Lee,” he finally said, putting on his hat and crossing the door threshold.

A few streets away from the Green Dragon, a young girl had already slipped into the darkness, covered by a black coat that kept her away from unwanted attention. As she approached the orphanage Anne could notice that the British presence was higher. They had already circled the building, but she knew some ways of getting in without being noticed.

She looked at the main entrance of the orphanage and frowned at the British soldiers guarding it, shouting at the women inside to open the door at once. She needed to hurry.

Passing a few alleys and entering through a hidden passage that lead directly to the building, Anne found herself in without any trouble. The urgent need of throwing away the unwanted British presence made her rush through the hallways to the inside of the main entrance, where a middle-aged woman was standing still accompanied with Ethan, the boy who had bumped into Anne that morning.

“I came as fast as I could,” Anne rushed to the woman, removing the hood that covered her head and embracing the boy against her legs as he was quite short. “Have they taken anything?”

“Not yet,” the older woman stated and jumped startled at the loud smash that came from the outside of the door. “But if those ratbags pry the doors open nothing will stop them from it. It will be a disaster, Mary Anne. The poor children will have nothing to take to their mouths!”

Anne’s thoughts rushed inside of her head as she pulled Ethan closer to her body. “Do you know the back alley that leads to the shore, Mrs. Taylor?” She asked.

“The one filled to the brim with rats?” She inquired.

“Gather everyone and make them carry any sort of food that we keep to the outside. I will stay and try to reason with the British, but if they search the place they must find it barren.”

“Are you out of your mind young lady? Staying here and confronting them alone is as a bad idea as jumping from the roof!”, the older woman spoke.

“It is either that or losing our resources once again, Mrs. Taylor,” Anne said and pushed her across the main entrance to the hallway. “Everyone has to find their own bravery, and I am not letting them famish again.”

As she said those words, Mrs. Taylor did as instructed, gathering every child and woman inside of the orphanage and ordering them to carry everything valuable out of the building in order to keep it safe. Some of the children tried to eat the food they were carrying, but were quickly reprimanded by the women in charge. Everyone worked shoulder to shoulder, cleaning the entire place in less than ten minutes.

Mrs. Taylor approached Anne as she was preparing to talk to the soldiers, who had not stopped beating the wooden door for the whole time. “You will need to stay in the alley for as long as I speak to them. Once I finish I will go after you so that everyone can return inside, but if you hear something odd, you will instruct the children to run to the barn that’s close to the bakery. Ethan can lead them as he knows the place.”

“What will you do if something goes wrong?”, the older woman seemed rather alarmed and sincerely preoccupied for her.

Anne smiled briefly. “I’ve always been keen on the idea that someone looks out for me every time.” She stood in front of the woman in silence for a second. “Now go.”

Perhaps Anne was right. Someone was looking out for her. But that certain someone went by the name of Haytham Kenway, who had been watching the British soldiers that were harassing the orphanage’s doors. He had promised himself to keep a low profile and only to act if needed, so he stood atop of one of the roofs that were in front of the building.

The wind blew cold that night. Haytham took in a deep breath, but no scent came to his nostrils. Only the freezing sensation of air inside his lungs. He hoped Anne was doing well. She was a clever and mindful young lady, but that served of no avail with drunk, armed British soldiers. So he waited. Waited for something to happen, even though he prayed, deep inside, for everything to remain calm.

“Such a nice night to wander around the city, is it not?” a voice called behind Haytham.

The Grand Master turned back to the sight of a hooded figure. By the wideness of the shoulders, he could certainly say that it was a man. He tried to make out his features, but a black cloth kept him from doing so. Haytham remained silent for a moment, studying his movements. An Assassin.

“And here I believed that Achilles and his brand new dog were the only Assassins in the Colonies,” he ironically said.

“You keep your damned blade away from her, Templar,” he threatened.

Haytham frowned. “What is your relation with Miss Connolly?” he inquired.

However, no words came out from the stranger’s hidden lips, as he quickly threw himself on Haytham, starting a fight that almost took the Grand Master off-guard. As skilled as they both proved to be, the Templar found himself sweating from the exchange of fists, no longer feeling the coldness of the air.

Both of them landed some successful hits upon the other, draining some blood from Haytham’s lip and the stranger’s brow. Though his body was poured into the fight, Haytham’s mind went back to Anne, as the fight had dragged him some roofs away and the orphanage was no longer in sight. He just wished to knock out the Assassin in order to get back to her.

Anne Connolly, on the other hand and unaware of the fight that was taking place a few buildings away and a few meters up, had opened the door to face the soldiers. She was welcomed by a pair of them standing closer to the doors, as the rest of them stayed on the other side of the street.

“May you have a pleasant night,” she started, “What can I help you with at these late hours?”

“We have come in search of food and shelter for the oncoming days,” one of them said.

“Oh, I am utterly discontent to say this, but the building has been abandoned,” she explained. “It has been so for the last weeks. It used to be an orphanage, but the kids were employed in the factories on the docks. Now that they have a salary and a roof to sleep under, this place is no longer of use.”

The two of the red-suited guards looked at each other in disbelief. “We were told that this place was run by a woman by the name of Elizabeth Taylor.”

“It actually was, but when Mrs. Taylor’s husband died she abandoned Boston and went back to Ireland,” Anne explained. “Have any of you been to Ireland?”, she warmly smiled.

“We have not, miss,” one of them happily replied. The other one, quieter, hit his partner’s head.

“What are you doing here if the place’s abandoned?”, that same one pushed.

“I clean the building in case someone’s interested in buying it. I sleep upstairs, but the repeated beating of the door woke me up. I thought someone needed my help and I rushed here.”

Both of the guards remained silent for a moment, taking a quick glance of the inside of the entrance. The place, although really working as an orphanage, was barren of anything unnecessary: paintings, furniture…

“Would you want to come inside?” Anne offered, taking an unnoticeable deep breath, fearing they could accept.

“No,” the stern soldier said, “I am afraid we have already lost enough time here.”

She released the air that filled her lungs and smiled. “I suggest that from now on you should check the information you get twice before doing anything. This has been but an absurd misunderstanding, but who knows who may be plotting against you? There are hundreds of unhappy citizens, discontent with His Majesty’s ways. You may want to be careful.”

The two men bowed and left without saying anything more, returning to their partners and walking away from the building. Anne stood at the door until the footsteps could barely be heard in the distance. Only then she closed the door and released the hardwood stick she had been clinging to for the whole conversation. Anne breathed deeply a few times, already walking to the alley where the rest of the people were waiting.

Although her battle had ended, the one that the Templar was fighting not far from there was not over. Haytham was not the type of men that would flee from a fight, but he had far more important matters to attend to. The only way he saw of ending their eternal-seeming dance of fists was to throw his opponent off the roof and into the sea, which’s waves were hitting the walls of the building they were on.

Haytham quickly gathered himself, wiping away the blood on his face and returning to the orphanage. When he was the place clear from soldiers, he feared the worst, but was quickly relieved to see, thanks to his special vision, a crowd of young children and a few women entering the building form a back alley. He decided to approach one of the windows, in hopes of seeing Anne inside.

“Miss Connolly,” he heard a woman call. “I have no words to describe how thankful I am.”

“Do not be,” she answered, “I think I may have messed things up for I told the guards that the place is abandoned. You should be extremely careful when coming in or out of here. Use the secret entrance I told you and there should be no problems, though.”

Haytham noticed as Anne came further inside of the building, reaching one of the children’s dormitories. He had to move to another window to see something that would remain in his memory for the rest of his days.

“Anne,” a young boy called her from his bed. Haytham recognized the kid that had bumped into her when they were at the docks that morning. “Did you scare them away?”

“Oh, I did,” she smiled widely, kneeling at the side of the bed and tucking the sheets firmly around the child’s body. “They will never come back again.”

“Did you fight with them?”, he asked excited. Haytham laughed at it soundlessly.

“I did. But not with any weapon. I fought with this,” she pointed to her head. “Sometimes, Ethan, intelligence is far more useful than strength. That is why I want you to learn and read the most you can, so that one day you may choose to overpower your enemies with wisdom to avoid any bloodshed.”

She smiled at the boy, her green eyes shining brightly. “Can you sing me the song of the sea?”, he asked.

Haytham frowned at the petition, but as soon as her voice started to harmonize the song, a feeling of sudden comfort and happiness swept his entire being. He had certainly never felt anything like it before. And he would never feel something similar after.

> _Idir ann is idir as_ (Between in and between out)
> 
> _Idir thuaidh is idir theas_ (Between north and between south)
> 
> _Idir thiar is idir thoir_ (Between west and between east)
> 
> _Idir am is idir áit_ (Between time and between space)
> 
> _As an sligán_ (From the shell)
> 
> _Amhràn na farraige_ (A song of the sea)
> 
> _Suaimhneach ná ciúín_ (Neither quiet nor calm)
> 
> _Ag cuardú go damanta_ (Searching fiercely for…)
> 
> _Mo ghrá_ (My love)

By the time Anne had ended her song, Ethan was fast asleep. She slowly and quietly stood up, kissing the child’s forehead and throwing on her black coat again. She exited the building and started walking towards her home, unaware of the man that followed her from the roofs, keeping her safe from any harm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens! Who is this Assassin and how is he related to Anne? Leave a comment!


End file.
